I'll Help You Reveal All Ch. 05
A local wine establishment awaits me on the adjacent block, graciously led by her. The entire situation gradually comes together in my mind, pointing to intricate planning behind the events. She remains silent during our walk, allowing my gaze to confidently steal moments of admiration.
"Might I enquire about your name?" I inquire.
"Fair enough. But, what's mine?"
"I view your husband as fully informed about me. The works: residence and job."
Alarm bells start ringing in my head. Her answer demands my attention: "We've researched you extensively, portraying a comprehensive understanding. Your location, professional life, photos - we're aware of your presence."
Thoughts clash within my brain. I was fooled, as usual. Geolocation details were embedded in the image data, hence her detection of my address.
Undeterred, she calmly continues, "Don't panic. It's at the apartment block level. There are hundreds of such buildings in the area. You provide a convenient location for us to discuss matters."
Redefining her environment in my perception, I carefully take note of her whispers. She's secretive, possessing a high-class aesthetic, with accent, hairstyle, petite heels, elegant attire, and substantial accessories. Her Jamaican origin is concealed beneath her poise. Money and influence are hers, emanating from her demeanor.
She also mentions arriving in town for a meeting, sojourning overnight to personally meet with me.
"Vacation in the area?" A hopeful inquiry bursts forth.
"Simply here for a conference. I could have conducted our meeting over the phone, but I prefer face-to-face encounters."
"Who babysits your children?
Calmly maintaining my tone, a golden opportunity poses itself.
"Does your spouse handle this task?" ...
"Yes." Her response was straightforward. Her guard is up.
She gestures towards a secluded area in the wine bar. Two glasses of white wine are ordered and delivered.
"Let's refine your senses," she suggests, beckoning me to join her.
At the outdoor area - dimly lit, archways formed to shelter us, she selects a table where we can converse in peace.
"My question: 'We' were you referring to?" I ponder curiously.
"What time aspect were you considering?"
She leans back in her seat, revealing a decorative opening in her jacket's v-cut. The tableau conjures a mental image of her ramifications, which amuses me.
"Are both of you colluding?" inquires curiosity.
"Yes, he handles the images; coordinates our activities. I contribute a different perspective."
Wrapped in her words, I'm transfixed. Overpowered by the sudden burst of attention, I gulp down my wine.
"Are you the brains?" I pry.
Laughter tinges our atmosphere before she explains her function, "No, I'm a consultant. I advise on the angles your counterpart, lacking the understanding of such complexities, may miss."
Astonished, I ponder the implications. Her patience works.
"Your list of preferences you disclosed to him, tell me." I'm barely aware of the subtly skewed question.
With a subtle expression, she quips, "You're exactly what we've been searching for, for a long time."
Instead, her fingers move towards the top button of her jacket. The v-neck slightly opens wider. She pops the next button as well, then halts. I find myself waiting, unable to move or break the spell as her hands slightly tug the lapel. She glances around at the nearby tables briefly and then leans forward.
I find out the truth. She's nude underneath the jacket. Her skin is bare, then the curve of a modest chest, as she bends even further. Her hands grasp the fabric, opening herself slightly more to show me her thick, dark nipple. I inhale sharply.
There's a glimmer there, a steel bar piercing through her nipple. I'm astonished, looking at another woman's pierced breast in public at a wine bar. It's all of my fantasies come to life. And then, she leans back in her chair and the jacket falls back into place, concealing her body. My mouth is unnaturally dry, my pulse racing. I glance up and encounter her dark eyes and get a shock.
It turns out she's been staring at me the whole time. There's a blush underneath the color of her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. Yet her eyes tell me everything.
"I'm the same as you," she whispers.
I find myself next to a stranger who's extremely aroused by showing herself to me. I can still see the curve of her breast in my mind's eye, etched into my mind, the perfection of her body. Her eyes are on me, like a confession, confessing everything. The veneer of control and civility has been ripped away, and she has revealed herself.
Her spouse was her first model because she asked to be. She feels what I feel, the horror and the ecstasy of displaying herself for strangers. Her lips press together and she swallows, and I'm suddenly fixated on her lips. They're so close. My entire being is on fire, and she's directly in front of me.
"Can I show you more?" she whispers.
I recoil, but I know that if I nod, I'm heading down a path I've never been and I don't know where it leads. I'm not gay. I'm not. This stunning temptress is calling me towards the ocean. I can't think.
But I nod, and it's all she needs. She gets up, buttoning her jacket again, reaching into her purse to place some money on the table. I find myself standing as well, and following her as she walks away, like I'm on a leash. I observe her motion, her hips swaying in her stylish trousers, the tight, firm curve of her derriere. My hands are trembling.
She leads me in silence to a hotel nearby. It's all been carefully planned with meticulous exactness. I've been procured, and now I'm going to be used. We enter the hotel and go up to her room, but at the entrance, I hesitate.
"I've never done this before," I disclose. "I'm not...."
"You're more than you believe."
"At least tell me your name."
"No."
She opens the door and steps into the room. I trail after her. The door slams shut behind me, making me jump.
"What about your husband?" I utter in confusion.
She removes her heels, bringing her down in height, then turns back to face me.
"He knows who I am. He's the only one in the world who knows who I am."
"And who are you?"
She turns around again, starting to unbutton her jacket. My attention is focused on each button as she unfastens it.
"I'm his wife. I'm the mother of his children."
She pops the last button and the jacket opens a bit, exposing a part of her midsection. I see a sparkle in her naval.
"I'm his muse. I'm his art."
Her hands go to the waistband of her trousers, opening it and lowering the zipper. She hesitates.
"I'm his art," she repeats, solemnly. "He transformed me into art and displayed me to the whole world."
She removes her jacket, letting it slide to the floor and expose her breasts. She releases her trousers, letting them slide down her long, curvaceous legs, stepping out of her clothing to stand naked before me. I'm astonished at her naked body, equally familiar from the photos, yet entirely different in the flesh. Dark skin, but more than that: there's a shiny steel pierced through each nipple, through her belly button and....
She bends down between her legs. She's clean below there, waxed as I am now. Her hands part her, showing me her private zone. She's also pierced down there, a bar through her clitoris and a little ring beneath her inner lips in the skin of her perineum. Even in the most recent photos of her, she wasn't pierced. This is all new.
She stands there, separating herself from me, and then her forefinger moves between her lips to flick the tiny metal bar going through her nub. I watch in awe as her thighs tremble and her muscles tighten, rippling as her breath stutters, and the realization hits me. She's having an orgasm, just from a single touch. I'm in the hotel room of a woman I just met, who I know nothing about, and she's cumming right before my very eyes as I stare at her naked body.
She gasps, sinking to her knees, her head bowed. She extends her hand, and I step forward, taking it. I feel the strength of her grasp, feeling her shivering. She doesn't look up at me, holding my hand, and it's like I've been fantasizing. She's naked, kneeling before me, ready for me to tell her what I want her to do. I cup her chin with my free hand and lift her face to mine. She has that delectable, lost look in her eyes, and my pussy contracts sympathetically.
"It's been so long," she whispers.
"How long?" I ask, softly.
"Years. Not since kids. We agreed to simplify our lives."
"And now?"
"We agreed."
I watch her lips, acutely aware of how close she is to the space between my legs. I made her cum just by looking at her; by letting her display herself for me, with her new piercings. Her husband knew I liked piercings. Did he do this for me?
I feel a surge, like nothing I've ever felt before. It's abandonment, euphoria, and an uncontrollable desire. I unbutton my dress and let it fall to the floor. I'm terrified of what she'll do, but then her attention is on my freshly waxed crotch. I can't help but wait.
She moves with the grace of a landslide in slow motion. When her perfect lips touch my body, I cry out in surprise. She understands me in a way I don't understand myself, extending her fingers to spread me gently, taking her time, kissing me. My fingers trace through her tightly woven braids, and it feels strange that I have her between my legs, her tongue-tip exploring my slit. Her head tilts back to look up at me, and I see the desire in her eyes. She sticks her tongue all the way out, pink and soft and alive. There's a little stud set into the surface, the same color as her flesh, almost invisible.
These are the secrets she keeps, when she's dressed in her suit, in her board meetings doing whatever it is that earns her five times more money than her husband. She is smart, responsible, respectable, and all the while, just slightly out of sight, she has a tongue piercing for the purpose of giving oral pleasure to strangers.
She laps against my clit and I feel the little nubble teasing my sensitive nub, running over it, sending shivers through me. She places her hands on my hips, and turns me, directing me to the edge of the bed. I lie down and watch in stunned silence as she climbs onto the bed, climbing over me like a predator, her eyes on the space between my legs. Her head drops and this time her talented tongue slides deep inside me.
I realize that I'm making a high-pitched mewling sound, my fingernails digging into her shoulders as she penetrates me with her tongue and then her fingers, twisting them around inside me until I explode with pleasure as she finds my most exquisite spot. I'm being played like an instrument, and I let it happen, powerless to stop it from happening and not wanting her to stop. My entire life, I've denied this. My whole life has been a waste.
She builds me up to the edge and I feel my insides beginning to flutter, the urge building. She senses it too, pulling back a little to let me recover and then pressing on again, over and over, teasing, until I'm cursing and moaning in protest. She knows exactly what she's doing, learning my body, comparing it with previous lovers, understanding what I like and need. I'm a newbie, fresh to all this. I give in, and she seems to sense that, and this time as I reach the peak, she doesn't stop.
When the orgasm comes, I shout out in surprise and from the understanding. My breath catches, my body locked, lifting her too, feeling her tongue still deep inside me, the suction of her lips encircling my entrance. The orgasm builds again, and she doesn't stop. I'm howling, shuddering, her nails digging into my thighs as she suckles on me. It's feeding something deep inside this woman too, something she's denied herself for years.
When at last she breaks contact with me, I slump down, gasping for breath. I finally open my eyes, and see her kneeling between my legs, looking down at me with a sly, sultry grin.
"You always remember your first time," she purrs.
I simply nod my head. I don't have any words to express my feelings. My mind is hazy, and I know I should do something or say something in return. I want to show my gratitude. This is what I should do.
She sits back, laughing.
"No, I'm still too sore," she says to me.
"Why?"
She holds her breasts but doesn't touch her nipples. "They are still tender. I need to heal a bit more."
"I'm sorry."
She takes a pause.
"Want to see?" she asks.
"Yes, please."
She lies down next to me, being careful now. There's a naked woman lying next to me, inviting me to touch her. I never thought this would happen to me.
"I'll be gentle," I tell her.
I touch her breast, and her skin is so soft. I'm still glowing from my orgasm, and this feels incredible to be able to explore her, so very intimate. I examine her nipple, the way the steel bar has been pushed through it, the small balls at each end to secure it in place. I focus my attention on her belly button, the matching ring there. The skin looks a bit swollen.
"I kept catching it on my belt. I had to switch to low-slung pants."
I nod. My attention is on the space between her legs, the untouched area there. I touch her, expecting her to pull my hand away, but she doesn't. She seems relaxed, letting my fingers move across her smooth skin. I can see wetness between her labia. I'm turning her on just by touching her.
"You can take a look if you want. It's okay."
"Really?"
I hesitate. It should feel wrong to touch her in her most personal area, but she wants me to. She felt so close and connected to her body, like she'd turned on a light inside me that I never wanted to go out. I have a hard time breathing.
I carefully spread her legs apart and her scent comes to me, a musky aroma that makes my toes curl. Deep inside her folds, I can see her clit piercing glistening. I look up at her quickly.
"If you want to. Just a kiss, though. I'm still very sensitive."
"You got them all done at once?"
"Yes."
"Today?"
"This week. Yes."
"Why?"
I had to ask, but I already knew, and it made me excited inside. I made a promise to him, and now his wife had her body pierced in preparation for it. They had planned this together.
"I'm going to be part of his new project," she whispers.
His new project? My thoughts race. I imagine what it might be, and the pieces fall into place.
"What is it?" I ask.
She smiles down at me.
"You'll see. I'll be gentle," I tell her. "Is it okay?"
"If you want to."
I want to. I gently kiss her where her legs are spread apart, enveloped in her intoxicating scent. This is the last step of a long journey I have taken to reach her.
I gently lick the tip of my tongue inside her, tasting a woman for the first time. I feel her hand in my hair, directing me along the terrain of her body. When she reaches her climax, it's subtle, more like a soft sigh, and at first, I feel disappointed, but then I look up at her smile and my heart melts. She lies down next to me and wraps her arms around me.
"That was perfect. You're so gentle," she says.
She kisses me, and I'm taken aback by the intensity of the connection between us. After all this time, I'm lying next to her in her hotel room, our bare bodies pressed against each other.
"When will you start?" I ask.
She laughs, and I feel it in her chest.
"You're eager. Not yet. We haven't planned anything. You need to think about it for a few days first."
She strokes my hair, and I begin to drift, feeling completely spent from all of the anticipation. I close my eyes. I want to tell her everything, but she's right. I need time to make sure it's what I really want. But it is what I want.
I want to be art as well.
I want to be displayed alongside her by him for everyone to see. I want my deepest desires revealed to strangers.
I know I'm going to get pierced like she is, my body marked with shining metal. I'm a part of the whole process now. I'm on the path to becoming someone new.
[Go to the next chapter: Her husband's project is finally revealed.
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Read also:
- In Vietnam, $20 Can Purchase... Part 1
- Nudist Treasure Hunt: Chapter 5 by Furga
- Stories from Chastity Island
- Trekking through Springs part 3.
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